We’re learning the tango, I say,thinking of the trees outsidethe dance studio. Oaks along the river.My mother is thinking, how terriblethe leaves die each winter.

Sometimes love necessitates disaster.She didn’t see his face when we came together.How I dared him to fall as I stepped around him.How he dared me to lead, fingers on my bodytight as a locked door. I took five steps,unaware of the vertigo. The difficulty of toesand muscle aligning. It’s easier to walk alonebut not as beautiful, I thought, then lostmy way. The forest is a trickster.

Doesn’t it hurt? she wonders, fingering my instep.I bandage the pain and pull away.No explanation.I’m remembering the trees, how the leavesturned scarlet at just the right moment.